


Ectoplasm And You

by Nenagh24 (EverFascinated)



Series: Fictober 2020 [4]
Category: Danny Phantom, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: But the intent is there, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Fictober 2020, M/M, Part Essay Part Narrative, Pre-Slash, So pre-relationship it's basically gen, Steter Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26835790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverFascinated/pseuds/Nenagh24
Summary: It was simple cause and effect.Ghosts need ectoplasm to do anything meaningful. Halfas generate ectoplasm. Therefore, ghosts congregate around halfas.Stiles wished someone had told him to prepare Beacon Hills for an uptick in ghosts before they started popping up everywhere. How were they supposed to figure out his new ghost power's limits if no one would leave them alone?
Relationships: Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Fictober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947883
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Ectoplasm And You

The term ‘ghost’ could be used for many different types of beings, but they primarily consisted of extra-dimensional beings that have some noticeable effect on objects or sentients in the physical worlds. Many researchers across the multiverse have attempted to categorize the type of ghost by how they can make themselves known, without much consistency. 

This was, of course, completely understandable as most were unable to reach across the spaces between their worlds which made peer review difficult.

For the sake of simplicity, it was easier to ignore the many names to prevent confusion between terms. Discarding the names of spirit, shade, poltergeist, soul, etc. to rely on the number of ectoplasmic particles available to the ghost made for a much more accurate comparison.

Those with more particles could do more and those with less were basically stranded until they could somehow get more.

* * *

This was getting ridiculous.

“Scott, we can’t just lay a circle of salt around the entire town. That would be insane.” Stiles argued exasperatedly. His friend got the bright idea that morning after another long night hunting down a stray spirit to lay to rest after it started messing with the local music stores.

Yes, creepy spirit activity was up these days, but there was almost a seasonality to the problems Beacon Hills experienced. In a few months they would probably shift to a fresh new hell, Stiles was sure of it.

Besides, that ward Deaton put up was already making him tingly, he didn’t want to get trapped here if it turned out the plan _worked_.

“You say that about all of our plans.” Scott pouted back as if that ever worked on anyone other than his girlfriend, and sometimes not even then. He was probably going for a scowl, but he missed it by a mile if that were the case.

“And that didn’t stop you before.” Hitting a scowl dead on as usual, Derek pointed out the ‘facts’ oh-so-helpfully as he frowned down at the both of them from his place on the other side of the table.

“Yeah, but like I said there usually isn’t a _staggering_ amount of evidence pointing to how bad of an idea those plans are.” Rolling his eyes at the two of them, Stiles finished pulling up his last tab of proof. Hopefully they wouldn’t need a full on powerpoint presentation for this one too because he had places to be like ten minutes ago. “Ever heard of the phrase ‘salting the earth’?”

“I guess?” Scott received two judgemental looks at his hesitant answer and his shoulders hiked defensively. “What? Does it not work?”

Apparently unwilling to watch Stiles school his friend on life, the universe, and everything, Derek turned away with a huff before stepping over to the closest window to glower at the street below. Stiles hoped that no one looked up because if any more ghost stories popped up about their town they might start getting some legitimate ghost chasers rolling in and then the whole werewolf thing might just become common knowledge. 

Subtle wasn’t the best descriptor for the McCall pack. 

Hell, it probably wasn’t in the top ten.

“Salting the earth does work,” Stiles kept going before Scott could puff up, “by ensuring that _nothing_ can live there.”

“What?”

“Do you even know _why_ I tell my dad to watch his sodium intake? Don’t answer that.” He cut off Scott before he could do more than open his mouth. “I want to be able to pretend you’ve listened to your mother, _the professional healthcare worker_ , at least once in your life, dude.” 

That got Scott to huff and cross his arms, but he stayed quiet so Stiles continued his explanation with a couple more images from the internet.

“Too much salt is bad for everything living, even fish who live in the ocean. It affects us on land a lot faster though, killing crops, polluting the water, and generally making the place unlivable.” He switched to a large body of water. “The dead sea is called that for a reason and one of the main ones is the salt content.”

“Oh.” Scott sounded defeated and Stiles could only feel relief that he may finally give up on the idea.

Both Scott and Derek turned sharply to the door. Listening hard, Stiles confirmed once again that his hearing was just baseline human. It was only just before the door unlocked from the outside that he noticed anyone coming. The door swung open with just a faint creak, to his ears at least, to reveal Lydia.

An annoyed Lydia, if her unimpressed twitch of a brow was anything to go by.

“Stiles.”

He shut his laptop and stuffed it into his bag along with a couple other sheets of scratch paper he’d used earlier to try and prove his point logistically.

“I’m coming.” He said in response. Shouldering his bag, he pointed a finger at Scott. “No salting the city, got it?”

At his reluctant nod, Stiles turned and made some shooing motions towards Lydia.

“Let’s go then.”

She stood in his way for a moment before turning sharply, her red hair almost smacking him in the face. Lydia obviously understood that saving the town took priority to their continued experiments, but appearances needed to be kept up especially when they were still keeping his ghost form under wraps.

* * *

Ectoplasmic particles were everywhere. While the concentration of them could vary wildly between locations, in most dimensions outside of those that ghosts could be considered alive in the particles were rather thin on the ground. 

What little ectoplasm they did have was often drawn to haunted locations. To be more precise, ghosts frequently found their way to places that attracted the particles, which answered the question of ‘Which came first, the haunted house or the ghost’ in a surprising turn. 

However, without a steady source of these particles, ghosts usually couldn't do more than outline their own shape or sometimes move a small thing. Even the most common changes to their environment - light, sound, the lightest of touches - took a good chunk of the particles for the average ghost.

Thankfully for these particular extra-dimensional beings, there was some measure of efficiency that could be gained. Older ghosts often learned how to do more with less and those who existed in places with large quantities of ectoplasm could find that the reserves available to them grew over time. This didn’t prevent the usual shedding that all ghosts experienced, but familiarity allowed for more control. 

All together, this expenditure via shedding, the ghost’s unique efficiency, and their ectoplasm reserves were a good indicator of what classification the being could receive.

There were only a few exceptions with one of the most notable being the halfa. Halfas were people who were stuck halfway between a physical dimension and a dimension that ghosts ‘lived’ in, commonly termed the ‘Ghost Zone’.

Unlike ghosts who needed to locate a specific source of energy to use, living beings instead constantly converted more readily available sources of energy for their own use via consumption. Supernaturally following this, Halfas in their physical form could stockpile energy that they could then convert into ectoplasm at a later time. Studies in the worlds that have halfas routinely find that this conversion occurs even when in human forms.

Normally, this information is discovered years if not decades into halfa studies because it usually took an extremely dense ectoplasmic area in a physical realm for the hybrids to form.

The researchers in this particular iteration of Beacon Hills got a bit of a head start with their halfa springing from a Spark. This made the subsequent jump in ectoplasm density easier to see. 

In fact, the Spark based conversion actually exacerbated the usual outpouring of ectoplasmic particles. To compensate for the lack of a portal to provide the excess of ectoplasm, Stiles’ Spark had linked the internal world the nogitsune was using against him at the time to the ghost zone itself.

While the full consequences of that union had yet to be explored, many of the ghosts capable of movement were already enjoying the most obvious benefits to them.

As the particles were converted or produced and shed, the town’s ectoplasm levels were rising, allowing shades to appear more frequently and drawing unattached spirits towards it in hopes that they could use the free floating particles.

* * *

Peter barely had the door open before Stiles was pushing his way into the fancy apartment.

“We’re late, I know. It was Scott’s fault. Yes, yes, as usual.” He preempted the older man’s comments, kicking off his shoes by the door and moving towards the overstuffed couch to land face down on the cushions, his bag dangling precariously from his shoulder. Stiles didn’t have to look to know that he was getting at least one raised brow.

The low hum he received in reply made Stiles shift just enough so that he could open one brown eye to glare at the amused look on Peter’s face.

“Shut up.” The demand was muffled, but Stiles knew those werewolf ears could pick it up.

“I didn’t say anything.” Peter reminded him, closing the door behind Lydia.

A second set of shoes were placed near the door, Lydia’s heels making his sneakers look messy in comparison especially next to Peter’s loafers.

“You didn’t have to.” Came the dry retort from the woman standing next to him, who reached up to pat Peter on the cheek condescendingly before making her way towards the table to add her laptop back to their usual experimentation set up.

“What was the problem today, if I’m allowed to ask?” The last was said with a sarcastic edge, which Stiles wrote off as simply being a part of Peter’s ingrained speech patterns.

“Salt.” Realizing that the word was lost to the cushions, Stiles pushed himself onto his side and propped his head up on one of his arms, his bag finally slipping to fall to the floor. “He got the bright idea to salt the whole town instead of waiting for the spirits to appear.”

Face twisting, Peter made a disgusted noise.

“Right?!” Stiles pointed at him, before letting his back hit the pillows along the back of the couch to free his other arm up and using both hands to cover his face. “I can’t believe he thought it was a good idea!”

“I can’t believe Derek didn’t back you up sooner. Didn’t your family teach him anything?” Lydia asked Peter pointedly.

Hands slipping from his face, Stiles opened his mouth to try and defuse the rising tension, but surprisingly Peter answered before he could say anything.

“Talia believed in easing them into it and I was out of town enough that I couldn’t have argued about it.” The older man huffed a sigh from his nose, looking away from both of his guests. “Not that she ever let me win an argument about anything, but that was beside the point. Her children, her rules.”

Lydia looked away as well to focus on her laptop, blinking wide eyes rather pointedly as she very obviously judged the dead woman for her choices.

A moment passed in silence before Stiles sat up abruptly on the couch, needing to break the uncomfortable atmosphere. He was enjoying these little get togethers, but these stilted silences still cropped up every once in a while.

“So,” he turned to Lydia at the table, “what’s on the schedule today since we can’t test our ghost theories on the wild ones after Deaton salted the one last night? Teleportation, improving my times, hide and seek, what?”

Mouse clicking a couple of things pointedly, Lydia then looked at him with a sharp smile.

“Why, your favorite of course.”

Stiles groaned, knowing that she was being mean. 

His favorite things never happened on their afterschool days. They simply took too much time.

Hide and seek meant trying to find one of them invisibly while in his ghost mode which was great but sometimes took hours as they both drove and ran around the city, making him pop around before flying in circles looking for the two of them.

The other, what he liked to call ‘do or do not’ a la Yoda, was when they examined the ghost footage for things he might be able to duplicate. So far he’d been able to pick up speed and that hand lazer thing that both the humanoid ghosts in the midwest kept using. No luck on the duplication or screaming yet, though.

No, what she probably meant was -

“Ah, a good old fashioned bloodletting.” Peter smirked at Stiles’ sour frown. “I’ll go get a clean knife and a basin.”

Now Lydia was the one making a face as she pulled up a video on her screen, the footage grainy even as something flew around in the background.

“The joke wasn’t funny the first time, and it isn’t funny now.” She reminded him smartly.

They were interrupted by a notification hitting all of their phones at the same time. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the wards had picked up yet another spirit.

He hated watching ghost hunters talk to nothing while they tested his ability to sense ghosts through different mediums.

* * *

Much like people, each ghost could have their own specialties, both strengths and weaknesses. Some of it was determined by personality, others by their shape, and still others based on the circumstances of their ‘birth’.

This was where peer review and cross multiverse studies would find the most interesting correlations between these unique complexities, but without the benefit of that perspective, each world came to different conclusions.

Thankfully, while the evolution of these powers was interesting academically, the commonalities were much easier to find than the differences even with a small sample set.

Intangibility was always first and foremost.

As extra-dimensional beings, ghosts were naturally out of sync with physical worlds. This allowed them to phase through objects, become invisible, and fly with little expenditure of ectoplasm. It was all the manipulation of their particles within themselves which allowed visibility, physicality, and movement in three dimensional space.

Some type of ghost sense was also expected and natural, allowing the beings to recognize each other even when on a different plane of existence. 

This literal sixth sense often piggybacked off another, but how that extra sense expressed itself could differ. While some ghosts felt the ectoplasm expenditure from others in their lungs, the frigid temperature change causing their breath to mist, others ghosts heard a specific tone as their particles resonated perfectly with another ghost. Still more were able to see the faint ectoplasmic auras given by fellow ghosts even when they were invisible to others. 

Finally, the ecto blasts.

A supercharged beam of ectoplasm, directed by the ghost to affect the world around them. Only stronger than average ghosts even attempted this on the physical plane as it consumed a large amount of particles at once. Most of the time, it was seen as a last resort even if it had a little known habit of increasing the reserves of those who used it long term.

These baselines were universal, but just like any skill or trait, the strength of each could vary wildly.

Still, it wasn’t surprising that some unusual improvements were thought of as baseline when there was only spotty footage to compare against.

* * *

While the rest of the pack was aware of Stiles’ brush with death, none of them outside Peter and Lydia knew of his full change. That meant that when he and Lydia joined the rest of the pack members who could make it to the parking lot on short notice, he was only armed with his bat as the rest expected. The only recent change was that one part of it had a silver coating, something many of the assembled werewolves curled a lip at when he swung it too close to them.

Stiles didn’t mind, the further away they stayed, the less likely they were to associate his new ‘death’ smell to the very spirits they faced.

While Peter sneered at their continued comments that Stiles must be in more danger from these ghosts, because they must be following him closely, neither he nor Lydia ever corrected them. Stiles knew it was because Peter was a drama queen who loved knowing things that other people didn’t and Lydia had told the two of them that she hoped to keep their research private until she had a solid thesis to present on the topic. With the subject remaining anonymous if possible, of course.

That night’s ghost was actually a reprise of the previous night’s, a flickering spirit whose purpose seemed to be tied to making as much noise as possible.

“Any idea where it is now?” Stiles asked as the final member of their group hopped out of their vehicle to join the rest.

“No, but it’s most recent location was at the band store down on main.” A thumb pointed back over his shoulder as if Scott thought that would help Stiles differentiate between the three music stores on Main Street, none of which were called The Band Store.

“Same format as last night?” 

“Actually,” Lydia cut in before Scott could split up the gang once again. “I’d like Stiles and Peter to come with me this time.”

“What? But that would put most of the werewolves-”

“Far away when I test my scream out on it.” She finished Scott’s sentence pointedly. He gaped at her a little in confusion. 

Not surprising, this was the first time Lydia ever pointed to her banshee powers as being an offensive option to the pack. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing with the two of them, exactly?” She asked before making a face, apparently deciding she also wasn’t fond of knowing what exactly was going through Scott’s head. “Nevermind. We’ve been researching ghosts and banshees may have an upper hand here, but your ears aren’t going to thank you for hearing it close range.”

“Trust me.” Peter said with full knowledge that few of those gathered would ever dream of doing so.

That only sparked up the argument further, but fanning the flames was what Peter did. Stiles chipped in a comment here or there, playing his part as well until they finally convinced the others that it not only was it the best course of action, it was the only one that could happen if they wanted everyone to get moving before midnight.

No grainy footage of people shouting at empty rooms and another chance to see if screams affected the already dead like they hypothesized. 

Stiles thought the night was looking up already.

* * *

The use of ectoplasmic particles wasn’t unique to ghosts, though they relied on them heavily. Many other supernatural creatures affected or made use of them even unknowingly. It simply took a close proximity for most to realize a difference.

For every rule, there was an exception, and one of those for this one was any being with a tie to death. There was a balance to all things and many of the physical planes kept themselves from joining their ectoplasm filled neighbors by having at least a few of the species that eradicated the particles.

Banshees were the most common of those.

* * *

“You know the others only agreed because they don’t think we’ll find it first, right?”

“Of course.” Lydia agreed, tugging her jacket closer as the night deepened around them. “That’s why I needed _you_ here.”

Expression flattening, Stiles turned from the street to look at her directly.

“I love being useful to you, Lyds.” He watched the sarcasm roll right off her like water off a duck as she gave him a saccharine smile.

“I know.”

Peter watched them with amusement from under his soundproof headphones. Flicking him off, Stiles turned back towards the trail only to stop suddenly.

A shiver went down Stiles’ spine.

His head snapped to look past Lydia, where an eerie glow was now emanating from a back alley. A distracted 

“Hope you’re ready to scream, because I think our test subject just arrived.” Standing out of her way, Stiles readied his bat just in case.

“I’ve always wanted to scream my problems away,” she answered, widening her stance to face the ghost that was only just visible.

“Now would be good.” Peter offered, having missed the rest of the exchange, his teeth elongating in the face of a threat. He held up his hands in preparation for what was to follow.

Lydia took a deep breath.

The spirit never stood a chance.

* * *

Banshees couldn’t kill with their screams alone. Instead, they screamed naturally in response to death and in doing so they guided what was left of a person after death to whichever realm they belong to. Part of that process was to purge the physical realm of any lingering ectoplasmic particles associated with the being.

The Death Knell wasn’t all powerful, and against anything strong enough to keep itself visible for long stretches of time they couldn’t do any more than weaken it, but it was enough to send minor shades back to the ghost zone.

* * *

“Did you get it?”

“Who do you take me for?” Peter asked, handing the phone over. “The video’s audio is probably garbage as usual though.”

Lydia accepted the phone with a half shrug of acknowledgement. Behind them, Stiles shook his head for the third time, trying to get the ringing in his ears to stop.

“Have I mentioned how much I dislike standing right next to you when you do that?” The question came out too loud judging by the winces on the other’s faces.

“That may be a side effect of your ghost powers.” Lydia reminded him. “Based on the results of this test, it’s rather likely.”

Turning to Stiles, Peter tipped his head in the direction of the alley.

“Anything left?”

“Sorta?” Stiles replied. He gave a shrug of his own in response to Peter's raised brow. “I don’t think it can do anything right now, but I can still see _something_ there.”

They all exchanged a similar look, resigned to their next steps. Stiles sighed, resting his bat on his shoulders.

“If neither screams nor zappy powers can do it, I think we’ll have to try out what those Fenton guys are advertising.”

“Their equipment is just so…” Peter trailed off a bit with a grimace before completing his thought, “demeaning.”

“Between that and a town overrun with ghosts, I know what I prefer.” Slipping the phone into her purse, Lydia looked at them pointedly. “I hope you both know how to pack your own lunches, because I’ve got a couple of thermoses on the way that you’re going to want to take everywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> Better late then never?
> 
> Fictober Prompt: that didn’t stop you before
> 
> Steter Week day 2: Paranormal Activity


End file.
